


Broken Shelves May Break My Bones

by taylor_tut



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Broken Bones, David Whump, Gen, Protective Gwen, Protective Max, david has anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 14:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A small get-well-soon fic for a friend on tumblr for David getting dizzy from missing a few days of anxiety (or depression, or whatever. I didn't specify. Personally I headcanon him as bipolar) meds. Shoehorning in a request for David breaking a bone.





	Broken Shelves May Break My Bones

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware this fic is Not Good. I usually wouldn't upload this here, but in the interest of making all my works available so people can find them, yeet i guess  
> also fuck titles.

He’d run out of meds the day the car broke down, and David cursed his luck. 

He considered the bus, but that was only a rental for picking up and dropping off campers and for field trips, and it was expensive. Quartermaster reassured he and Gwen that the car would only take a few days to fix, and of course if something really went wrong, they could call an ambulance in an emergency. 

But a ride to the pharmacy wasn’t an emergency, and so he’d convinced himself that it was mind over matter and that he’d be fine without his meds for a few days.

Which is how he ended up here, leaning heavily on the sink splashing water in his face to combat the celebrity meltdown night sweats and to try to clear the fuzzy feeling from his head. 

He rubbed his face dry with a paper towel and looked himself sternly in the mirror. 

“You’re okay,” he whispered decisively, “you’re fine. You’re not dizzy; it’s in your head. It’s fine.”

Wavering slightly as if to undermine his own authority, David left the bathroom and headed to the mess hall. 

No one ever wished him good morning. Really, David was sure that if he weren’t there to wake everyone up, half the camp would sleep til noon. So today, when he beelined silently for a table in the corner of the mess hall instead of walking around to each camper for a greeting, breakfast began silently. 

He didn’t grab much to eat--he was never very hungry when he was this lightheaded--but he forced himself to nibble at a piece of toast. Gwen, late as usual, dragged herself out of the kitchen to sit down next to David with a hot cup of coffee. She eyed him suspiciously, but was easily put off by a smile. 

“Good morning, Gwen,” he chirped, forcing the cheer into his voice. 

“Hi, David,” she muttered. After a few more sips of coffee made her more alert, she looked him up and down and frowned. “Are we changing the plans for today? You’re not dressed for cotillion camp.”

David winced--he’d forgotten about that. “Well, neither are you,” he accused. 

She rolled her eyes. “That’s because I wasn’t planning on dressing up,” she explained, “but you always do. You’re usually so excited that you sleep in the suit and tie the night before.”

David considered fighting her on it, but decided that it wouldn’t do anyone any good, so he deflated a little and nodded. 

Her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You look exhausted.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I guess I just didn’t sleep too well. Maybe it’s better that we save that for another day.”

“Do you need--”

“It’s fine,” he cut her off, “really. We’ll just do something kind of… low impact?”

Gwen patted him on the shoulder and stood. “I’m sure I can find something in the activity closet to occupy the gremlins for the day if you need a break,” she said. David didn’t like her going into that closet alone. It was dusty and spidery and the shelves of heavy items were barely thumbtacked to the wall.

“I’ll help,” he promised, but he stood up too fast and everything spun for a long enough moment that by the time he blinked his vision clear, Gwen had already disappeared into the activity closet. Too fast, too unsteady still, he staggered after her.

“Gwen,” he scolded, leaning against the door frame, “you know you shouldn’t--”

“David?” she called, abandoning the board game shelf in favor of steadying him. Through swimming vision, he watched the shelf shift twice before giving out completely on one side, the side closest to him, and was just barely able to push her aside before it toppled down on top of him. 

The force of the wooden shelf slamming into his chest was more than he anticipated--how were such heavy-duty shelves held up by so little adhesive?--and it sent him crumbling into the ground. 

“David!” Gwen cried, excavating his body from a tomb of old, off-brand game boxes and DVD box sets.

“What the fuck happened in here?” Max’s voice asked from just outside the door. The racket had gotten the attention of the campers, who had all abandoned their breakfasts to see what had fallen. 

“It looks like a cave-in!” Nikki exclaimed. 

“We’ve gotta clear the wreckage!” Nerris added, grabbing Nikki by the hand and lunging toward the closet, but David shook his head. 

“Kids, you shouldn’t be--!” David cut the sentence off with a pained hiss, more of a weakly disguised curse than anything, as reaching out to stop the campers from taking another step sent electric, searing pain through the whole front of his chest. 

“Oh, shit,” Gwen cursed, kneeling down next to him gently. “What hurts and how badly?”

David shook his head, alarmingly pale all of a sudden. He pointed with one hand to the opposite clavicle, and Gwen slowly, delicately untied his bandana and tugged at his shirt collar to reveal an already bruised, bulging welt. 

“Damn it,” she muttered, “That looks broken. okay, since our car is fucked, I’m gonna have to go over to the Wood Scouts and see if I can borrow theirs. Kids, watch him,” she delegated. She took David’s phone and handed it to Max. “Call me if something happens, but he should be okay. Try not to freak.” 

Gwen took off toward the Wood Scout Camp, leaving the kids alone with David. 

Max shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. 

“What do we do with him?” he asked, turning to Neil. However, before Neil could answer, Nurf was already under David’s good arm, genty raising him to a standing position. David couldn’t bite back a whimper of pain at the movement, but allowed himself to be led to the main mess hall room and set up against a wall where he was no longer in danger of more things falling on him. 

“Thank you, Nurf,” David managed through a tight jaw, “that was good thinking.”

“Ice might help the pain,” Harrison said, overturning his glass of water from breakfast into Preston’s waiting hands and wiggling his fingers theatrically as it turned to ice cubes. After a short pause for oohing and aahing, they placed the ice in David’s bandana and tied it up, pressing it to his clavicle. 

“Owowow, kids, gentle,” he moaned, and Max rolled his eyes.

“Come on, guys, let him hold it himself. David’s a big kid; you’re just gonna hurt him,” Max chastised. 

David wasn’t listening, and Max had to coax the ice pack into his hands. He was looking ahead, a dazed expression on his face, and didn’t move to make him press it against the bone.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Max asked. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

David shook his head slightly to clear it and looked at Max. “Only when I move,” he admitted. Max huffed, but took the ice pack from David’s hand and pressed it against his collar. David looked confused, but smiled wanly. “Thank you, Max,” he said quietly, half amused and half bewildered by the gentleness. 

“Don’t get used to it, asshole,” Max muttered. “This is only because you’re too useless to do it yourself.” 

David frowned. “I can--”

“Don’t fucking move,” Max threatened. David nodded and let himself close his eyes, reveling in the cold compress even when the ice started to melt and drip down his shirt. The campers chatted amongst themselves, but it was reserved and quiet, none of them wanting to take their eyes off David or risk what Gwen might do to them later if they acted up. 

Eleven minutes later, a car honked twice, and Max glanced down at David’s phone to find a message from Gwen that just said “get in the car.” 

“Aright, everybody--and by everybody, I mean Nurf--,” Max delegated, “let’s get this idiot to the hospital.”

“I can stand,” David reassured, only swaying slightly as the campers helped him to his feet and to the waiting car. While David got his bones fixed, the campers spent the rest of the day fixing the shelves in the activity closet. 


End file.
